Circle
by honouraryweasley12
Summary: Grief can turn to joy. Mourning can turn to celebration. Ron and Hermione rely on each other for comfort, strength, and hope during two significant times in their lives.


**Circle**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on July 17, 2009

* * *

His ginger-coloured eyelashes fluttered open and blue eyes, not yet focussed, attempted unsuccessfully to decipher the time on the small clock on his bedside table. He knew it was much too early for his liking, judging by the violet light filtering through the sheer curtains, concealing a large window overlooking a meticulously kept garden. The roaring fire from the previous evening had long since been extinguished and he felt an icy shiver run up the entire length of his body, dissipating the fog of a well-earned rest. It was a mild spring morning, so he knew the shiver wasn't caused by the lack of heat in the room. It was his realization of the date that had brought about that reaction in his body. He shuddered as another tremor made its way through him, a telling sign of the hours ahead.

He turned towards his usual source of warmth and comfort, expecting to cuddle against the softness of her back and to bury his face in her luxurious hair, taking in the strawberry scent he loved so dearly. He felt a sense of disappointment as his arm landed on the smoothed out sheet beside him, a sharp contrast to the chaos they had made of their bedding mere hours before. He traced his palm over the silky surface and found it cool to the touch, the indent of her sleeping form temporarily erased from its memory. Despite the deep sadness that lingered just below the surface at this time every year, a tender smile graced his lips as he remembered a cherished moment from exactly eight years ago to the day. The very first time he had the pleasure of falling asleep with his beloved nestled tightly in his arms...

* * *

Pain.

Fire coursed through his limbs and veins in a way he never imagined possible. The lump in his throat felt like a permanent fixture, and his body shook from the physical toll of the past two days. Sudden visions flashed through his head, replaying the events which led to the grief threatening to overtake his already fragile state. He saw the frozen smile on his brother's pallid face, never to tease or laugh again. He witnessed the stillness of his best friend's body, unaware of the fierce spirit still alive within. He caught glimpses of the covered rows in the Great Hall, each of them having made the ultimate sacrifice for _his_ continued survival.

As he stared up at the maroon canopy under which he had slept since he was eleven, he could feel exhaustion replacing the surges of adrenaline which had fuelled him for countless hours. He felt horribly guilty for cutting short the time he spent mourning with his family, but he had been unable to hold himself together for a second longer and had quietly slipped away. He had tried to be strong for them, a pillar they could lean on in their time of need, but Percy's stifled cries and the lost look on George's face were too much for him to bear. He knew the private refuge of his old bed was the only place he could try to control the emotion churning within.

His shaky resolve was shattered by Harry's peaceful snores in the bed next to his. He was reminded of how many people Harry had lost throughout his life, and how many times Harry had to deal with the crushing despair he himself was now feeling over the loss of his brother. Fat, scorching tears began cascading down the sides of his face as he sobbed openly for several minutes. Tears of grief for his departed family and friends intermingled with tears of relief and joy. They were finally free; no more having to live under the shadow of threat and hatred. He wanted to scream at the world for taking away his brother, while simultaneously thanking whatever power made it possible for them to triumph. His body convulsed and he hiccupped several times. Upon hearing a soft shuffling coming towards his bed, he hastily wiped his eyes and took deep breaths to calm the physical effects of his breakdown. The heavy velvet curtain nearest to him was slowly pulled away to reveal his reason for fighting, the reason why he had hoped to live to see his future.

She was beautiful in the dim candlelight, wrapped in a soft oversized night dress. She looked utterly spent after helping the healers tend to the wounded, but to him, she was a vision. She stood next to the open curtain, wringing her hands nervously, as he stared up at her with his now red-rimmed eyes. No words were exchanged as he shifted over and lifted the corner of the blanket, allowing her to slip underneath. She reached up and pulled the curtain back into place, giving them their first real moment of privacy since they had ventured down into the chamber. They lay there awkwardly for a moment, shoulder to shoulder, the slight contact spreading warmth deep into his skin, chasing away the pain which lingered there. The enormity of everything that had happened engulfed him again, and he pulled her tightly against his chest, tears forming and dripping into her frazzled locks. He needed to feel that she was real and alive, that she had survived the nightmare unscathed. She gripped him back tightly and whispered soothing words in the dark, her voice comforting and calming him. He knew she was holding back her own sorrow to take care of him, and he loved her for making that sacrifice. As the tension in his muscles relaxed and his breathing returned to normal, he tenderly snuggled her close. A feeling of contentment washed over him as he drifted off into a healing sleep.

* * *

He let out a rough chuckle as he remembered how awkward that first moment had been between them, and yet they had fit together perfectly when he embraced her. He also remembered the intense love, belonging, and possessiveness he'd felt towards her as she hugged him close. Those feelings always sprang to life whenever she was near; they had only grown stronger as the years progressed. Although their relationship had finally taken a step forward that fateful day, it had retained the aspects that had always drawn them together; the constant push and pull, the stubbornness, and the electrifying sparks remained, but these were now balanced out with playfulness, love, and trust. They had their own unique dynamic and it worked well for them, despite the arguments which still occurred.

He grinned as he thought about their creative and all-consuming methods of making up after one of their fights. They shared a mutual passion and lust that never seemed to fade; after years of circling, they simply couldn't get enough of each other. He recalled the past few nights when their usually intense lovemaking had subconsciously taken on a greater sense of urgency and desperation, just as it seemed to every year at this time. They both needed the reassurance that they were living life to its fullest and taking nothing for granted. The intimacy they shared was the pinnacle of everything they fought for and the costly sacrifices that had been made.

The recollections had momentarily pushed away the worry that was forming on the edge of his thoughts. He knew she needed her rest, especially in her condition, but this day always seemed to throw her logic out of balance. He knew how much it had hurt her to lose so many close friends, and she had a habit of bottling up these feelings until they burst forth. He was instantly reminded of an eerily similar dark spring morning, a few days after she had slipped into his bed for the first time and held him through the night...

* * *

Panic.

It flooded his senses when he awoke suddenly to find that she wasn't comfortably tucked into his side, the gentle rise and fall of her chest no longer anchoring him to reality as it had the past few days. It amazed him how naturally they had fallen into a pattern of sleeping in each other's arms after the tiring days of rebuilding. He instinctively felt afraid and scrambled out of bed, quickly realizing he would have been alerted if anything had happened; that thought greatly diminished his initial fear and calmed his racing heart. He turned to the bed next to his, hoping to ask Harry if he had seen or heard her, and noticed that Harry's bed had remained untouched throughout the night. He harboured a suspicion as to where Harry might be, after spotting his best friend and his sister having a long, much-needed conversation in a darkened corner of the common room late the previous night. He thought it fitting that they were renewing their relationship in the very place it had, rather publicly, begun.

Stifling a yawn, he threw on some trousers and trainers and stealthily made his way down the stone steps into the Gryffindor common room. His suspicions were confirmed when he glimpsed Harry and Ginny slumbering on a large sofa near the fireplace, the dying embers casting a glow on their content faces. Seeing them together in such a peaceful moment brightened his spirits considerably. He was glad they were able to reclaim the same happiness he had recently discovered with Hermione. His thoughts once again turned to her as he made his way through the portrait hole, his legs intuitively carrying him towards the place she always went when she needed answers.

Her presence at his side was the only thing that had made the days following the end of the war bearable. The losses had hit his family hard, and after the terrible first couple of nights of mourning, no one was in the mood to dwell on what had happened. Instead, they had thrown themselves into helping to fix the castle, all of them ignoring the fact that the funerals were quickly approaching. In private, she was helping him cope with the sadness and tremendous guilt that he was feeling — the guilt that he was allowed to live when so many others, including his own brother, were not. He was torn up by the fact that he'd been unable to prevent his brother's death, even though deep down he knew there wasn't anything he could have done in that moment. Most of all, in the face of the grief and loss surrounding him daily, he felt immensely guilty for the feelings of sheer happiness that engulfed him every time he realized he was finally with the girl he loved, and that she returned those feelings. She reassured him that this was exactly what they'd fought for, exactly why Fred and the others had sacrificed their lives, so that everyone had a chance to live and love freely. In the dead of the night, she had stroked his hair and told him, in no uncertain terms, that happiness was to be celebrated, for it proved that they had triumphed in the face of the worst kind of evil.

All the while, he'd known she was holding something back. She was trying valiantly to remain strong and focussed for those that now looked up to her, and relied on her as a leader during the rebuilding. To the untrained eye, she was the picture of efficiency, taking charge of various projects around the castle in an effort to assist the teachers and volunteers. But Ron wasn't fooled, he knew all of her looks and expressions, and he could see right through her façade. He had made numerous attempts to get her to open up to him, just as he had to her. He wanted to take care of her and provide her with an outlet to grieve. He had tried ineptly to broach the subject the previous night, but she had merely silenced him by placing a finger on his lips. She'd just shaken her head before lying down on his pillow and falling asleep as he watched over her. He knew better than anyone what suppressing such strong emotions could do, and he was afraid she was going to reach her breaking point soon. Ever the stubborn one, he had thought before closing his eyes. As he climbed up the newly-repaired castle stairs, he was almost certain that she was finally ready to let things out and start coping, just as he had a few days ago.

* * *

As he rolled out of their bed and slid into a pair of worn orange slippers, he contemplated how odd it was that history had a way of repeating itself. He had somehow known just where she had fled to seek solace when he woke up in his empty bed eight years ago. He had also known in his heart that she needed him, that he could provide the comfort and healing she so desperately wanted. Waking up now to find her gone was worrisome, but he knew she would be in her own private sanctuary, a place of calm familiarity surrounded by the silent companions that had played such a large role in her life. The circumstances now were very different. When he'd found her that day years ago, he hadn't known what to do for her, he'd just gone along with his gut instincts. When he'd spotted her that morning, silhouetted by a lone candle, his heart had nearly stopped. She'd looked so beautiful, yet so very vulnerable...

* * *

Silence.

The library always seemed so still in the morning hours, the few times he had ventured there that early in the day. The deathly quiet unnerved him slightly, as he never could get used to the oppressive stillness. He was much more comfortable in a noisy environment: the bustle of the busy household he grew up in, the roar of the Quidditch pitch, sleeping in a dorm full of rowdy boys, and the sounds of the outdoors. She, on the other hand, was an only child. She was used to the quiet, whether it was growing up in her parents' calm house, or seeking out independent, studious pursuits in her youth. She had told him once that she loved the tranquility of silence; it allowed her to fully focus and concentrate. He knew there was no better place to find that silence than the Hogwarts library at daybreak.

He crept along the rows of dusty tomes and scrolls of parchment, which contained immense stores of knowledge on almost every subject imaginable. The vast archives of the school library were certainly impressive, a fact she had pressed upon him several times. The joy of reading had never really sunk in for him, but it was tremendously important to her. He paused for a moment to examine a shelf packed with books on various charms, wondering inwardly if she had read them all at some point in the past seven years. It certainly seemed like she knew everything, but he was well aware that wasn't the case. She never knew when to shut down and take care of herself, when to push her own needs to the forefront. That's why he was there; it was one thing he could do for her, as she would never do it herself. He quietly continued walking until he could see a faint orange glow coming from a table to his left. He stopped and took in the view before him.

She was hunched over a large open book, examining something intently. Long brown strands of her hair cascaded over her face, providing her a sparse curtain to hide behind. A stack of even larger ancient texts sat in a pile in front of her, awaiting her attention. A single candle flickered on the desk, bathing the worn manuscript in warm amber-coloured light. He stood and stared at her for a moment, entranced, until he noticed how hard she was clutching the quill in her hands, her knuckles white as she gripped it tightly. He slowly approached and whispered her name, not wanting to startle her. She tucked her hair behind her ears and looked up at him with slightly moist eyes.

"Ron? What are you doing here?" She asked with a tremble in her voice.

He sat down next to her and laid his large palm between her shoulder blades, gently rubbing her back to calm her now shaking body. His actions were clumsy and he suddenly felt self-conscious, but he didn't stop his ministrations and pull away, like he might have in the past.

"I was worried when I woke up and you were gone. I reckoned you'd be here." He admitted quietly.

"Charms," she whispered, turning away and nodding at the open book. "I needed…" She stifled a sob and ran the back of her hand over her cheek. "I needed…the distraction…from everything."

It pained him to see her so broken up, so he tried to comfort her the way he had last summer, when they were preparing to leave with Harry. He gently moved his hand down and placed his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. With that simple gesture, the dam broke. She turned and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his collarbone. He pulled her small frame into his lap as she pressed her face into his neck. He could feel her hot tears soaking his shirt as he reverently stroked her hair, just as he had at Dumbledore's funeral. Her tears continued and he felt her body wracking as her grief finally manifested itself. They sat there for a moment in each other's arms, until she pulled back, streaks of tears running down her face like raindrops sliding down a window pane during a downpour. She started sobbing, great heaving sobs, as she blurted out the thoughts he knew she had been concealing since the end of the war, her words choppy and uneven.

"Oh Ron, I can't believe they're gone. Fred. I'm so sorry Ron, I'm so sorry. Professor Lupin and Tonks, the sacrifices they made, their baby, he's so young, and now he's an orphan like Harry. He was dead, Ron. Harry was dead." She was crying uncontrollably now, and she began pummelling his chest half-heartedly with her clenched fists. "It's so unfair, they didn't, they didn't deserve it..." She trailed off as he pulled her tightly to his chest, her words muffled against his shirt. She pulled back again, and he reluctantly let her go, knowing she needed to get everything out.

"I...I was so scared when I saw Harry's body, and then the fighting started and everything was a blur. I couldn't breathe. I saw you, Neville, and Greyback, and I was afraid for you," — she gripped him tightly and continued — "but then Bellatrix came at us, and she was so strong we could barely hold her off. Her voice kept echoing in my head from that night at Malfoy Manor. I thought, for the second time, that the last thing I would ever hear would be that voice. Then Ginny almost got hit, Ron, we almost lost her too. Your mum...then Harry appeared...and then I saw all of the bodies and the injuries...it hurts so much." She was forced to slow down her frantic pace in order to gulp down mouthfuls of air; the release of her memories had left her gasping.

Ron wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back again, trying desperately to calm her down. "Shhh, it's over now, Hermione, it's all over." He kept whispering this mantra in her ear, unsure of what else he could do for her. He felt relieved when her shaking began to subside, hopeful that at least some of her sorrow had evaporated. Her loud, strained breathing began to quiet down, restoring the cavernous room to its usual solemnity.

She pulled back once again and ran the sleeves of her jumper across her face, brushing away the salty paths which ran down her flushed cheeks. She still looked a bit shaky, so he tried his best to think of something, anything, to cheer her up. He spotted the dark pink dawn sky through one of the windows and was struck with a sudden idea. He lightly pulled her off his lap and up to her feet, where she swayed dangerously. He leapt up from his chair, grabbed her small hand in his larger one, and turned towards the doors. She stood rooted to the spot, her eyes darting between the books on the desk, the diminutive flame, and the eager look on Ron's face.

She looked up and gave him a confused stare. "Where are we going, Ron?"

"Just trust me, please?" He pleaded with her while tracing his thumb soothingly over her knuckles.

"But, I need...I need to keep researching. There's still so much to do." She said while looking down forlornly at the dusty old books piled on the table.

He quickly aimed his wand with his unoccupied hand and extinguished the candle, causing a single wisp of smoke to swirl up and fade away. "The books will still be here, love. Come with me, yeah?"

Her eyes widened at his unexpected endearment and she squeezed his hand in silent agreement. They made their way through the sleeping castle and stepped into the spring morning.

* * *

He fondly remembered how his sudden inspiration had helped them both that day, and it seemed like a good idea to try again if she needed it. As he padded through their home, he couldn't help but notice that things felt slightly different this year. He didn't feel as weighed down as he usually did when this day came around, and he hoped she was feeling the same way. The day always took an emotional toll on her, but this time there was much more at stake than just her well-being. He stopped when he reached the doorway of her shelf-lined study, the slightly open door beckoning him to enter. A familiar sight welcomed him as he peered into the room: the candlelight, the neat stack of books, and her. He had witnessed this scene countless times, and he had become quite adept at reading her mood based on her posture and facial expression. He studied her profile keenly for a moment, and breathed a sigh of relief as he came to the conclusion that she didn't seem nearly as distressed as he had seen her in the past. He slowly walked through the room and pressed his lips to his wife's warm cheek, breaking her out of her reverie. She turned and gave him a tired smile before returning to the book in front of her.

He brought his hands up to her shoulders and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "How are you feeling this morning, love?"

She sighed and slumped a bit in her chair, closing her eyes in the process. "Knackered and sore, but no more than usual."

"Wore you out last night, did I?" He teased as he nuzzled her earlobe.

"Perhaps, but you're not the only one who thrashes about when I'm trying to sleep," she answered as she looked down at her large, protruding belly.

He massaged her shoulders, causing her to groan and sit up to get closer to his strong hands. She leaned back and he felt her relax under his touch. She opened her eyes and craned her neck up, brown locking on blue, the unspoken feelings about the day passing between them like an electric shock. Her lips twisted into a frown, and he could see his sadness reflected in her eyes.

"Oh Ron, it'll never quite go away, will it?"

He shook his head as that simple truth hit him hard. The sheer rawness of it had gradually faded away, only to be replaced by the dull ache of sorrow that served as a reminder of the darkness in their past. She kissed his palm and rubbed it over her rounded tummy, his hand melding to the curve. He felt a light kick, and experienced the familiar thrill of anticipation and a rush of protectiveness. He looked at his beautiful wife, carrying their child, and was overcome with a fierce love for them. He berated himself for the joy he felt on such a sombre occasion, and tried to stifle his happiness for the time being. There would be many tears shed this day, the tributes and memorials always struck a chord deep within him. She was watching him anxiously as a myriad of emotions flitted across his face, but this time, it was she who blew out the candle and, with much exertion, stood up. She gripped his hand tightly, leading him out of their cozy home and into the dark orange hues of the rapidly approaching morning light, much like that morning in their past...

* * *

Dawn.

The world was just beginning to wake up as they strode down the stone entrance steps hand in hand. He noticed the apprehensive look she still had on her face as he pulled her in a familiar direction, towards a large tree overlooking the lake. It was hard to believe that just a few days ago, the area had served as the site of an intense battle, one which defined their past and secured their future. So many thoughts raced through his head as he surveyed the slowly brightening grounds, marvelling at how the cleanup had removed any traces of the death and destruction that had scarred the land. The first rays of the sun peeked over the far end of the lake, and his pace quickened. He needed to share this moment with her.

As they reached the tree, she looked at him curiously, breathing heavily from the effort to keep up with his swift strides. He looked at the hard ground surrounding the base of the tree, and gave her a proud grin as he quickly cast a Cushioning Charm. While keeping hold of her hand, he pressed his back against the solid tree, slowly sliding down into the invisible softness as he faced the oncoming sunrise. He tugged at her hand and she complied with his request to join him. He spread his legs in a V-shape and settled her between them, her back leaning into his chest and his arms wrapped around her waist. Their hands remained clasped and settled comfortably on her stomach. She leaned back slowly and rested her head against his shoulder as they sat in silence and watched as the blazing orange sun began to rise, signifying the start of another day. He was about to explain why he dragged her away from her books when he felt a warm splash on their joined hands.

"It's beautiful," she whispered through her tears. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"This was the only thing I could think of to cheer you up. I didn't mean to make you cry, I hate seeing you like this."

She sniffled a few times. "It's alright, Ron. I think I needed this. It's just all been too much...the end of the war, the losses, the rebuilding, the upcoming funerals...us."

He felt his heart drop at the last word she had spoken and his arms drooped, loosening his hold around her waist. His heart began racing as questions flooded his thoughts. Did she regret that brilliant, life-altering kiss? Was it something she had done recklessly, when she had thought she might not live to see the next day? Had their past few days together been nothing but two friends consoling one another? He had thought their relationship had changed after he had almost lost her that awful night at Malfoy Manor, but he had to know for sure.

"Us? Do you not want this...us?"

She immediately spun around and faced him. "Of course I want us! Being together with you these past few days has been the only thing getting me through. I...I admit I was afraid at first that once things calmed down you wouldn't feel the same. We've been close so many times, but something always seemed to come between us. I was so shaken the night of the battle, but when I fell asleep in your arms it just felt right. You made me feel safe and protected."

He cupped her chin and lovingly ran his thumb over her cheek. "I always want to protect you, but I think you have it wrong about that night. I was hurting terribly until you came to me, until you comforted me. Only you could have done it." With that, he leaned forward and captured her lips for just the second time. He never wanted the overwhelming sensations to end as he deepened the kiss. Slow minutes went by and he could feel the headiness of it overpowering his senses, regretfully causing him to pull back, both of them panting heavily. She gave him another quick but intimate kiss before she turned and snuggled into his chest once again. He enveloped her in his embrace, feeling her body's rhythm gradually resume its normal pace. His heartbeat also slowed as they sat in their relaxed silence, observing the slowly rising sun.

After enjoying the peaceful morning for nearly an hour, he could feel her starting to shift around restlessly. He knew she was a driven person, but why she couldn't relax, after fighting a war no less, was beyond him.

"Are you alright, Hermione?"

"Yes," she said and let out a sigh. "I really needed this, but I'm afraid I must get back to the library. I want to finish my research before Fred's...the funerals begin."

He felt a piercing jab of pain at the mention of his brother's name, but she made it fade away by brushing her fingertips along his forearm, a reminder that she was there for him. He revelled in her soft touch and let the warm feelings wash over him for a moment. However, he was perplexed at her insistence on going back to the library.

"What could you possibly be researching at a time like this?"

He felt her body stiffen and she was quiet for a moment. "Memory charms, for my parents."

He sobered immediately, only then realizing that the fate of her parents had been weighing on her for almost a year. He remembered how distraught she had been when she had first arrived at his place the previous summer, after having to destroy any evidence of her family's whereabouts and hiding any memories they had of their own daughter.

"I'm sorry, love, I forgot how much it hurt you to do that. But it worked, didn't it? You kept them safe, and now we can bring them home."

"We? You don't have to...I wanted to go right after the funerals...I can't ask that of you."

"You aren't asking, I'm offering. Now that we're, well, us, I don't like the idea of being away from you." He leaned forward and rested his cheek against her hair. "Besides, who am I going to cuddle before I fall asleep? I'd ask Neville, but I'd rather not face the looks of jealousy from the female population of Hogwarts." He grinned at his rather poor attempt at levity.

He heard her quietly chuckle, but she still felt tense. He leaned down to her ear and whispered in a serious tone. "We'll find them soon; please try not to worry too much. You're a brilliant witch, I'm sure you did the charms perfectly. But, I know you well enough to understand that you need to recheck everything. Care to accompany me to the library?"

She turned and shocked him with a hard kiss, her unspoken gratitude communicated perfectly. She pulled back and examined his earnest face before giving him a teasing grin. "I never thought I'd see the day when Ron Weasley would volunteer to go to the library."

"Blimey, I'd go to the library every day if I knew I'd be getting kissed like that."

"Ha! So all it takes is one little kiss to have you at my beck and call?" She said with an arched eyebrow and a twinkle in her eye. "In that case, close your eyes."

He immediately shut his eyes, eagerly anticipating her intoxicating taste. He was dumbfounded when he felt her scramble to her feet. He opened his eyes to see her nearby, giving him a devilish smile. "If you want another one, you'll have to catch me first," she teased before racing towards the castle. He jumped up in hot pursuit as their laughter, innocent and carefree for the first time in years, rang through the early spring morning.

* * *

The slowly warming air and fresh scent of their garden greeted them as she led him to his favourite spot, the large canopied swing chair where they had spent many evenings in each other's arms watching the sunset. She used her wand to turn the entire structure to face the opposite direction, before prodding him to sit down. He held the chair steady and helped her sit down next to him, her shorter legs not quite reaching the ground leaving them swinging back and forth.

He absently placed an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze, wondered how she had managed to turn the tables on him. After all, he had gone to her study with the intention of pulling her outside to enjoy the morning, in preparation for the strain of the hours ahead. Her concerned voice caused him to focus on her words.

"Is everything alright, Ron? I know this day is hard for the whole family."

He glanced down and gave her an honest look. "It's not that, well, it is that too, but...is it horrible for me to feel happy today?" He caressed her belly. "Just seeing you this morning, the both of you, made everything this day means seem different."

She reached up and entwined her fingers with his. "It's fine to feel that way; it just means you're healing. Don't feel guilty, Ron, it takes a different amount of time for everyone."

"I just..." He took a moment to gather what he was trying to say to her. "I think I'm ready to start celebrating what we gained on this day, instead of just mourning what was lost. It was terrible, losing Fred and the others, but I think they would want us to rejoice at what they were able to provide us. This little one wouldn't have been possible without what they did for us, and instead of crying over them, I'm thankful to them for giving us the chance to build our lives and our family together."

It was clear that she wasn't expecting such a heartfelt declaration from him, and it rendered her speechless for a moment. She pulled his hand up to her face and nuzzled against it, kissing it gently to reassure him that it was alright for him to have these feelings on such a dismal occasion. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

"Yes, but I never tire of hearing it," he replied with a smile. "Thanks for this, Hermione. I love you more than you can possibly imagine. But," — he leaned over and kissed her temple — "I insist we go back inside and get some rest; I know this day will be stressful, regardless of how we feel."

She gave him a pout, but realized he was just trying to take care of them. "Fine, but let's just stay out here a little longer. Please?"

He let out an overdramatic sigh and pulled her close, as she rested her head on his shoulder. They sat together in silence, watching as the sun rose at the edge of the horizon...

* * *

Hope.

The young couple made their way back into the castle, whose occupants had started rising and getting ready for the day ahead. The stone corridors were still relatively empty as they steadily made their way up to the library. They entered the silent room once again and glanced around for any other early risers who may have occupied the space in their absence. They were relieved to find that everything was as they had left it.

"I told you the books would still be here," he said and nudged her gently with his shoulder.

She let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head. Instead of responding to his jibe, as he was expecting, she took a hold of his hand and determinedly made her way to the table where he had found her earlier. He was amazed at how much things had changed for the better in the past two hours since he found her there. She went to her customary chair and attempted to sit down, but he made a quick decision and threw his arm across her body to stop her. "Hold on, I have an idea."

He pulled out his wand and levitated all of the chairs lined up on their side of the table, placing them carefully against the far wall. He walked over to a sitting area halfway across the library and levitated a large sofa. After bumping into a couple of shelves and upending a stack of texts, he was finally able to position the sofa next to their table. He flicked his wand again and lit the single candle he had extinguished earlier. He pulled her onto the far end of the couch, where the candle and her books were situated, and then landed heavily next to her, his long limbs comically askew. She let out an amused snort. "You know, Ron, I find the library chairs just as comfortable as this sofa."

"Well I knew you would probably be a while, so I thought I'd get more comfortable, if it's all the same to you. Don't let me distract you."

He heard her mutter something under her breath and saw her cheeks flush slightly before she turned towards the book she had left open. He studied her for a moment and silently thanked the stars for bringing her into his life. He covered a wide yawn and realized how early it had been when he woke up that morning. His eyelids began to fall as he felt the onset of sleep approaching. A hazy, half-formed thought seeped through his drowsiness as he examined the books and candle in front of him. He stared at the candle; bright, warm, unpredictable, yet strangely lacking something just on its own. He glanced at the book; reliable, filled with knowledge, able to fuel creativity, yet rendered useless without a pair of eyes to absorb its contents. The two unlikely objects formed a perfect union when the candlelight bathed the words in soft light, the candle fulfilling its need to warm and illuminate, to help bring forth the words on the page, while allowing the book to share its knowledge and provide the candle a purpose while basking in its glow.

This thought diminished as he stretched out on the couch, and she gave a slight gasp as he settled his head in her lap. He felt her fingertips tracing hypnotic patterns through his hair and he placed an arm around her as sleep claimed him, the comfort of her presence filling him with hope and love as he dreamed of their future together.

* * *

"I wish this morning could last forever," she quietly admitted to him as they leisurely stood up from the chair swing. They had taken their time to fully appreciate the wonders around them; the rising sun, the singsong chirping of the birds, and the lush scents of the flowers they had planted around their garden. Even though they were both exhausted, he wasn't really in a rush to get back inside. He just wanted to make sure she got her rest. He had almost given up his attempts to coax her to bed when she finally capitulated; the pregnancy and lack of sleep must have tired her tremendously. She had already been up for several hours, and knowing that a long day awaited, he wanted her to be well-rested for her sake and for the baby. He didn't care if she thought he was being overprotective, after everything they had seen and done, it didn't hurt to be extra careful. When it came to the most important people in his life, his Hermione and the precious bundle she was carrying, he would never take any risks.

She led him inside, but instead of making her way up to their bedroom, she marched down the long hallway to her study. He bemoaned the fact that he was married to a madwoman, and followed her into the room. She had already lit the candle on the desk and was attempting to sit down in her usual reading spot. He could see the familiar text on the pages facing her and let out a sigh of frustration.

"What are you doing?"

She glared at him impatiently as she was straining to sit down on the chair. "What does it look like?"

He walked over and placed his arms on her shoulders, stopping her movement. "You need to rest, love. You've been reading and re-reading these books for months; you surely must have them memorized by now. Come up to bed."

"These books are important, the baby will arrive soon, and I need to know this."

"You'll be a great mum, but right now, you need your rest. Don't those books say anything about the importance of the mother's health?"

She faltered. "Yes, but..."

"No buts, not today. Let's just go upstairs and relax." He leaned down and covered her face with light kisses, causing her to giggle.

"Fine, fine, you've convinced me." She blew out the candle, shut the book, and walked out of the room towards the staircase. He followed her out, but not before turning to glance at the candle and the books, reminding him of that morning in the library. He lost himself in thoughts about that day for a few minutes, before he closed the door and climbed the stairs to their room.

He entered the bedroom to find her already asleep, and he shook his head in amusement at her stubbornness. As he slid under their sheets and settled in next to her, he leaned over and softly kissed her cheek. He then ducked his head down and placed a small kiss on her tummy, before settling on his back and staring up at the ceiling. He imagined Fred and the others were up there, watching them in this perfect little moment, their sacrifices being honoured the best way he knew how. He whispered a silent thank you before his ginger-coloured eyelashes fluttered to a close.


End file.
